A Midwinter Nights Dream
by Thor
Summary: A prequel to Doublecross. Learn what a Toreador elder, the Sabbat, a young coterie and marbles have to do with each other. (Apologies to W. Shakespere)


A Midwinter'

Greetings and salutations. I am Thor, this is my story. I will take the vague hope that you are here because you've read some of my other stories and liked them so much you want to read more. This is good, for I have many just waiting to be uploaded yet. This story is sort of a prequel to _Doublecross_ (available at all finer bookstores and more then likely the web listing you found this story at) I wrote this as a means to explain exactly why Doshaine seemed to have it out for Reginald, not that he needed a reason. I also have included some (and please forgive me) changelings in this tale. I own and have gamed in all the product lines and do try to game in a world containing all of the races. Therefore why not write stories where they all take part as well? As a matter of warning this story contains violence, adult language, and the wild ramblings of a pooka. (viewer discretion is advised and insisted upon, unless you are bigger then me. In which case read what you wish!) I have based my works in the World of Darkness and White Wolf product lines, (though I do take liberties with some facts, powers, locations, ect. This is fiction, cope with it.) However I do not own them, nor do I wish to challenge White Wolf's rights. I am making no money, send no large thugs to beat my head in. Any questions, comments, rants, or ideas may be sent to me at arcanloth@hotmail .com. I do not read my mail every day, but I do always respond. Now, please enter once more into the dark streets of Detroit as the New England Players present my rip on a classic as they perform Thor's...

A Midwinter's Night Dream: A Tale of Detroit  

    
    Arienkel, the sidhe sage watched as the Sabbat war party was slowly
    beaten back by the Camarilla resistance. Nearby stood a mage, he had used
    his mystical might to lure three werewolves into the fray, and now seemed
    content with the results. Arienkel motioned to the mage, wolfmen, and
    vampires as he turned towards the young Boggin he was instructing, "Do you
    see how they each weave their webs," he asked. The Boggin nodded. "Each
    group believes themselves the master of their own fate," Arienkel continued,
    "Yet beyond even this minor battle there is the battle for Detroit, beyond
    that there is The Wyrm versus The Wyld versus The Weaver. Beyond that you
    could even find Good versus Evil, though I shall discuss the problems of
    those terms in a later lecture." The young Boggin stared attentively at
    Arienkel as the sage became caught up in his spiel.
    "But you must realize that as each of them play their little games,
    they convolute upon one another till nothing is ever accomplished. However
    we Fae, we fight a battle that none of the others can even comprehend, we
    battle for dreams. Thus we are the only creatures who are allowed to act
    with true freedom in our actions." Arienkel paused to make sure the young
    fae still listened. "However, we must always be careful to never allow
    ourselves to approach these master manipulators, for they have had
    centuries of practice in manipulating other beings. If we let them know of
    us we too would be manipulated."
    "What about us manipulating them?" asked the Boggin.
    "The Kingdom forbid!" cursed Arienkel in shock, "we are not capable
    to affect their plots, and even if we tried we would be unable to get the
    reaction we wanted to happen, and even if we somehow did, we would then be
    trapped in their mindless little game! You must remember that we are
    immortal, truly so, and that even these "vampires" will dissolve to dust
    before your life is ended."
    "Unless someone jabs ya with a pointy piece of cold wrought iron,"
    came a singsong voice from above. Arienkel glanced upward to the top of
    a TV antennae, sitting on top of it was Puck, a Pooka trickster of
    legendary skill. Her hair was composed of fine blue and purple feathers.
    Her nose was an elegant blue beak. She stood just under five feet,
    and was currently dressed in a lavender T-shirt, blue and gold striped
    pants, and neon pink suspenders. Puck lightly sprang off her perch and
    dropped down by Arienkel. The sage scowled at her impudence.
    "Tonight's lesson has ended child, return to bed and be good in
    school tomorrow." The Boggin nodded and scampered off across the rooftops.
    Arienkel turned and started to walk away. Puck sprang lightly onto the edge
    of the building and started walking backwards on it looking at Arienkel.
    "Do you really think it so pointless to attempt to have our own way
    in their little plots and games," she asked in her song-like voice.
    "Of course it is! Now if you'll excuse me!" He raised his hands
    and in a flash of light was gone. He appeared on a rooftop far away,
    and sighed in relief. As he turned around though he found Puck still
    next to him. She hopped out to the tip of a flagpole that protruded from
    the wall of the mansion they were on.
    "I bet I could play their games, and I bet I could win too," Puck
    proclaimed.
    Arienkel snorted, "Please, you can't even keep your own thoughts in
    order....what would you bet?"
    "I bet," Puck said grinning, she had known Arienkel never could
    refuse a game of chance, "I bet three drams of magic, and I'll even let you
    pick the parameters big nose!"
    "Fine, if you wish to give away your glamour, so be it." I choose
    that you should try to manipulate the vampires," Arienkel knew that
    the wolves were too simple, and Puck would probably easily locate a gullible
    mage, however the vampires were always looking out for outside manipulation,
    a perfect foil for Puck's mad methods. "Also, none of the Malkavians may be
    used in your plot, also you must never allow yourself to be seen, or speak
    openly to those involved." Puck shrugged in agreement.
    "So big nose, what should I try to get to happen?" asked Puck.
    Arienkel pointed across the park at a dark mansion.
    "There is an old vampire who lives there, he has manipulated
    much in the city and is very dangerous. I want to see you get him to be
    almost crushed by a group of pathetic weak vampires. Then I want him saved
    again but with none of the vampires being slain."
    Puck stopped capering about the roof, "sounds to me like a pretty
    fancy setup you want done there," Arienkel nodded.
    "Are you claiming that you can't do it?" he asked.
    Puck shook her head,"I can do it, it'll just take some time to set
    up."
    "How long do you want?"
    "Two days, at least!" she giggled as she bounded off across the
    roofs.
    Arienkel sat and watched her leave. Two days? Two days! The idea was
    laughable, how could you so affect a group that spent decades playing out
    a small move in their own plans in two days. Arienkel rubbed his hands
    together in anticipation of the free magic energy.
    Two days later
    "So are you ready?" Arienkel asked as he watched Puck hang upside
    down from the tree they were in. She had opted today to wear a yellow top
    hat, orange sunglasses, a blue T-shirt, and polka-dotted pants. Arienkel
    continued to wear his silver robe of office.
    "Shhh big nose, I'm preparing for my ultimate maneuver of politics
    and stuff," was her hushed reply. Arienkel watched as Puck kept her eyes on
    a young vampire who was sitting in the park feeding birds, as he did every
    evening. Then he noticed a limo pulling into the dark mansion of the elder
    vampire. Puck raised her hands and crossed them to make a shadow puppet
    bird, energy seemed to wash around her hands and a shining bird shot off
    straight at the young vampire. The bird whizzed by his head and flew over
    the mansion, the vampire spun around to see what it was, and watched as two
    figures left the limo to enter the mansion.
    "There, my plan is fifty percent done!" Puck happily exclaimed
    "Yay for me!" Arienkel shook his head,
    "I fail to see what a flashing bird buzzing a young vampire is
    going to accomplish."
    "Well now we have to wait, but have no fear, my plan will
    unfold." Punk winked at him as the two faeries faded out of sight.
    Derek scowled as he stomped up the stairs from the basement,
    "can't a guy get five minutes of peace around here?" he muttered as he
    heard the doorbell ring again. Finally reaching the front door Derek
    unbolted it and flung it wide open, little fear in his heart as to the
    chances of a mugger waiting for him. Outside stood Cheryl, dressed up in
    her best club going dress, a low-cut red satin affair. She ran a hand
    through her short spiked red hair and smiled at him.
    "Yo, Big D, did you forget about the get together tonight?" she
    asked. Derek groaned, he had forgotten, he nodded to her and turned back
    into his small house.
    "Just give me a sec to get dressed." he said. Cheryl laughed at
    his retreating back,
    "C'mon "black is beautiful"! I wouldn't mind if you
    just wanted to come in your boxers." She leaned against the door frame
    and watched the massively built African-American pull on some jeans and
    boots.
    "Hurry up Big D, I suspect Reginald's getting his panties in a bundle
    cause we haven't shown up yet!" Derek gave up on trying to find a shirt,
    he grabbed his jacket and magnum off the dresser and rushed to join Cheryl.
    Reginald glanced at his watch, they were now officially eight
    minutes late. He frowned and shifted the silk tie on his neck. "Could
    you relax Reggie, they'll be here," said Trevor. Reginald glanced up from
    his watch as he glanced at his companions. He had joined this coterie
    (a collection of kindred with a similar goal) almost five years ago, and
    the same batch of them kept meeting and saying the same things every other
    Sunday, in truth Reginald was beginning to regret ever wasting his time
    with these fools. To Reginald's right sat Alex Sena, a young Caitiff. Alex
    let his blonde hair grow as it pleased, and rarely seemed to clean his
    worn green K-mart sweater, or change his khaki pants. Alex however
    did provide a useful amount of information about what the anarchs of
    Detroit were up to, thus he was allowed to participate. Across from
    Reginald sat the mystical advisor of the group. Trevor Fitzroy, he was a
    member of the Tremere clan, a practitioner of blood sorcery. Trevor kept
    his head shaved, and always wore a brown suit and a pair of mirror shades.
    Reginald himself was of the Ventrue clan. His connection to the rulership
    of the city as well as his sharp business sense and skill at plotting made
    him (in his own opinion) the most valuable member of the group. The
    missing members, Derek and Cheryl, were both Brujah and as far as Reginald
    was concerned, they were starting to become very annoying. However Derek
    was one of the deputies to Detroit's sheriff, and thus had valuable
    information to give at every meeting. Cheryl was only put up with because
    she convinced Derek to show up at the meetings.
    "At last," hissed Reginald as two figures entered the club. Trevor
    waved the pair over as Reginald checked his watch again, "ten minutes, my
    schedule is totally ruined tonight!" he growled.
    "Relax man," advised Alex, "I think you can afford to lose ten
    minutes here and there," The two Brujah meanwhile had made their way over,
    and slid into the available seats.
    "So what's the word," grunted Derek in his deep voice. Reginald
    eyed Derek's mussed hair and short beard, then he glanced down at his
    chest.
    "You're not wearing a shirt," he noted in annoyance.
    "Yeah," giggled Cheryl as she ran her hands under Derek's jacket,
    "don't it make him look sexy!" She nipped at Derek's ear and
    giggled again.
    Trevor shook his head at the display,
    "I think it would be about time for Alex to share his news," Trevor
    said in his calm monotone. Reginald glanced over at the Caitiff,
    "That's right, you claimed to have some important news for us, well,
    what is it?
    "Um, it's kinda sounding crazy, but it's not," murmured
    the Caitiff, "you see, I was feeding my birds at Grand Circus Park, and I
    saw something."
    "What did you see Alex," growled Reginald in annoyance.
    "I saw a strange vampire head into Doshaine's mansion,"
    There was a pause as the other kindred at the table took in the
    news. Doshaine was a reclusive elder of the Toreador clan, he was known
    to be rather 'strange'. He was also known for being the only powerful
    elder in the city who apparently had no interest in the politics of Detroit.
    "So what was so strange about this kindred," asked Reginald.
    "Well," whispered Alex, "the thing is, it is that, that I had
    never seen him before. So I checked with the seneschal and found that
    nobody had presented themselves to the prince as visitors in the past two
    weeks."
    "What!" shouted Reginald in shock. The others at the table also
    seemed to be amazed at the news. The thought of one of the city's elders
    hiding a un-presented Kindred in the city was shocking. Alex started to
    repeat himself (taking things far too literally) but was silenced by
    Reginald's waving hands. "Do you realize what this means? If we could prove
    this we could have Doshaine by his balls! Think about the favors we could
    extract from him!" Reginald said with a massive feral grin on his face.
    "I don't know," said Derek, "It could be dangerous to get involved,
    after all, maybe there's a reason that this person never presented"
    "Never mind that hogwash, if you never stretch out, you'll never
    grab the ring" hissed Reginald.
    "Did you just make that up right now," laughed Cheryl.
    Reginald scowled at her, "I want you all to meet me at Grand
    Circus Park tomorrow night, I think I have a plan!"
    "That's your plan?" scoffed Cheryl, "sounds to me like you're
    getting desperate and stupid!"
    "It will work! I spoke with at least three Toreador who swore by
    it!" argued Reginald.
    "I dunno," said Derek, "they say all you do is ask?"
    "That's correct," snapped Reginald, "come on, I'll show
    you!" and with that the Ventrue crossed the street and began moving
    towards the mansion. The others glanced at each other. Finally Derek
    shrugged and set off after Reginald, Cheryl quickly followed, then Alex.
    Trevor stood in the lightly blowing winter snow.
    "Damn it all," he cursed as he too set off after the others. By
    the time Trevor caught up with the group they stood in front of the
    massive red oak doors, and Reginald was ringing the doorbell, which was
    literally a chain attached to a bell on the inside of the house. A few
    minutes later the door swung open to reveal a young blonde woman dressed
    like a chauffeur.
    "May I help you?" she asked, Reginald smiled at her,
    "Hello Madame," he quickly bowed slightly, "my colleagues and I
    have come to peruse this fine establishment, we understand that Lord
    Doshaine offers tours to any interested in viewing his art." There was a
    seemingly endless pause as the young woman cast her eyes over the
    assembled group.
    "Of course, the master is busy at the moment, but I am more then
    capable of giving you the tour." Reginald let out a breath he didn't
    realize he had been holding and bowed again.
    "Come then my friends, we have much to see," he said as he lead
    the way inside.
    "This is most bothersome," grouched Arienkel as he sat on a tree
    branch disguised as an owl. Next to him sat a creature that appeared to
    be a cross between an ostrich and a dodo bird.
    "Quiet, big nose you're the one who insisted on accompanying me"
    replied Puck.
    "Well I had to make sure you kept to the deal,"
    "Shhh, here they come!" The pair of odd avians fell silent as a
    small group was lead through the garden.
    "My master maintains these gardens in the classic style of Paris
    in the late 12th century," explained the guide. Following her came a
    motley crew of kindred conspirators.
    "So when do we find the mythical hiding kindred guest," whispered
    Cheryl to Alex.
    "Hey, I saw what I saw,"
    "Sure you did," was her mocking reply. The group then crossed over
    an impressive mosaic of tiles that depicted Christ and the crucifixion on
    Golgotha. Trevor marveled at the extreme craftsmanship of the piece as the
    group was led up three steps and through a bay window entrance into a main
    hall.
    "So what exactly is the next phase of your masterful plot,"
    Arienkel asked Puck. In reply she hopped up off the branch she had been
    sitting on, it lifted upward and allowed an extra beam of moonlight into
    the hall.
    Trevor was becoming annoyed at the time wasted here when a flash
    of moonlight brought to his attention a dark stain on the rug he was
    standing near. He crouched down, the stain was blood, he touched it and
    summoned some of his Tremere blood sorcery. The blood was that of a
    kindred, a young one. Intrigued Trevor scrapped some of the dried blood
    up and slipped it into one of his pockets.
    "Well that was a total bust," whined Cheryl, "I just wasted three
    hours staring at a bunch of old junk! On top of that I know I didn't see
    any strange kindred standing around!" Reginald shook his head,
    "I thought that we went into every room they had, but I saw no
    evidence of any other Kindred but Doshaine."
    "The night might not be a total ruin," said Trevor fishing into
    his pocket, "I think I found something worthwhile," so saying he pulled
    out the blood clot for the others to see.
    "A funky old piece of funky old blood," complained Cheryl as she
    paced back and forth in Derek's basement. Derek sat in the corner cleaning
    a double barreled shotgun. The others stood clumped around Trevor as he
    sat at a table investigating the blood.
    "Silence Cheryl," snapped Reginald, "to a person who knows how,
    blood can tell many secrets." He returned his gaze to Trevor who was now
    in a trance while holding the blood. Trevor finally came out of it, he
    then broke off a fragment of the blood and slipped it into his mouth. He
    closed his eyes again, again the others waited. Finally he opened them,
    "The man whose blood this was, was a twelfth generation Toreador,
    he sat in the main hall and spoke with Doshaine. Doshaine then slew him
    and drank of his blood." Reginald clapped his hands together in glee,
    "Now we have the old bastard!"
    Thephano will fly if held too lightly,
    Thephano will die if held too tightly,
    Lightly, Tightly, how do I know,
    Whether I'm holding Thephano, or letting her go?
    Doshaine looked at the lines of poetry before him and nodded slightly as
    he reached out his quill for another dab in the nearby inkwell. The
    albino elder was engrossed in his one remaining passion, composing poetry
    for his lost love and sire. Suddenly there came a tapping, as though
    someone gently rapping, rapping at his chamber door. "Only this, and
    nothing more," he whispered, finishing the line. He stood quickly, he had
    left standing orders to only be disturbed from his poetry by dire events.
    He slid open the door to see his ghoul Danae standing there looking quite
    worried. "truly your forgiveness I implore," spoke Doshaine before Danae
    could speak, "but the fact is I was napping, and so gently came you
    rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
    That I scarce was sure I told you, not to do so long before, Yet your life
    is put at risk here," his hand shot out and clamped around her throat,
    "For Ever, Evermore," Danae struggled weakly in the pale hand of her
    master, which despite her own supernatural strength, may as well have
    been carved from the marble it resembled. She weakly held up the cell
    phone in her other hand and desperately waved it in front of him.
    Doshaine's milky white eyes swiveled to regard the phone, and he snatched
    it up with his spare hand, "Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this
    mystery explore," On the other end of the line there was a pause.
    "Is this Doshaine?"
    "Lenore?"
    "What, no! This is the society for the mutual benefit of you and
    us,"
    "Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
    "Doubtless" said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store." There
    was another pause from the other end, Doshaine took the time to recall
    that Danae needed to breath and released her.
    "Listen pal, we have proof of the sick little kindred blood
    addiction you have going on up there, we can prove that you're bringing in
    kindred, killing them, and then drinking their blood. If you want the
    evidence to be destroyed then I suggest you get a blood contract ready,
    cause we'll want some big favors in return."
    ""Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still if bird or
    devil! By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
    Tell this soul with sorrow laden I, shall meet and sign away then "
    Another pause from the other end, and hints of whispers and suggestions.
    "Right we'll be there, the contract for the evidence, we'll show up
    at midnight, sharp." There was a click as the other end disconnected.
    Doshaine set down the phone.
    "Master, is everything all right?" Danae quietly asked. Doshaine
    shook his head, his white hair cascading around his shoulders.
    "It appears I now owe a boon to a gaggle of fools," he replied.
    Then he turned and reentered his sanctum to continue his poem.
    "What foolishness is this going to accomplish," grumped Arienkel
    as he stood by a dumpster in a back alley of Windsor. A pair of kicking
    legs clothed in lime green pants stuck out of the dumpster. Arienkel idly
    watched the light show created by the street lamp shining on the sparkle
    covered purple shoes attached to those legs.
    "It will all make sense soon, this is the last part of my plot,"
    came Puck's echoed reply from inside the dumpster. "Ah-ha!" She cried in
    glee as she dropped back, now holding a filthy pile of rags.
    "Ah-ha?" Arienkel echoed as she happily began to wrap them about
    her small body, "I fail to see how making yourself appear more hideous, if
    less color blind, will help stop the deal without killing any of the young
    vampires."
    "Don't you see?" she squeaked from inside the heavy rolls of
    fabric, "I need to make a distraction in order to put things back the way
    they were." She suddenly waved her hands in his face, "Quick, hide!"
    Arienkel spun around and saw the approaching shadow entering the alley,
    he glanced back and realized it was the only way in or out.
    "Hide? Where!?!" he hissed at Puck. She looked directly at him,
    and then grabbed him by his robes and bodily flung him into the dumpster.
    Arienkel almost bellowed in rage, but clamped his hands across his mouth
    when he heard the figure speak.
    "Greetings Leech, I trust you were able to discover interesting
    news for me," Arienkel peeked over the edge of the dumpster at the strange
    figure. He immediately recognized Michael Cooler, head vampire of the more
    violent gathering of the leeches in Windsor!
    "Yeessth masthster, I foundsth outsth whatsth thesth reasonsth
    forsth thesth failedsth attacksth laststh weeksth," came the lisping reply
    from Puck/Leech. Arienkel noticed that now Puck appeared as a robed
    disgusting vampire creature, like a Nosferatu.
    "You learned who sent those lupines in to ruin the assault!"
    snapped Cooler, "Tell me quickly!"
    "Itsth wasth Doshaine,"
    "Doshaine! That Toreador poet shall soon learn why to never fuck
    with the Sabbat! I'll send a pack here to meet you in ten minutes, you
    lead them to his haven, then leave the rest to their skilled abilities."
    "Yeessth masthster," Leech responded. Arienkel shook his head, he
    hoped Puck knew what she was doing.
    Derek rechecked his magnum and shotgun, both loaded, both ready.
    He climbed out of Cheryl's Firebird and snapped both weapons into holding
    loops sewn into his leather jacket. Finally he grabbed his special shovel.
    He had cut up one of its sides and sharpened it in order to create a
    make-shift battle axe, he had also cut the handle in half for ease of
    handling in closed quarters combat.
    "Don't you think you're overdoing things a bit," asked Alex as
    he walked up towards Derek and Cheryl. Derek looked from the weapons up
    towards the dark mansion behind its high stone walls.
    "No,"
    "For once I concur with Derek," said Reginald as he approached
    the others, he too had a double barreled shotgun, and was concealing it
    somewhat under his outer coat. "It pays to always be prepared in
    negotiations, especially when negotiating with someone loony enough to
    quote poetry as his bargaining method." Cheryl shook her head,
    "I loved the look on your face when he called you Lenore!" she
    chuckled. Reginald scowled at her, but the others were spared his
    complaints by the arrival of Trevor, the Tremere came dashing up on foot,
    he appeared unarmed but the others knew him to be capable of feats that
    made conventional firearms seem pointless.
    "Shall we go then?" asked Cheryl as she slipped a automatic
    pistol into her purse. The quintet slowly made their way up the walkway
    and pulled the doorbell. Moments later the young woman opened the door
    and ushered them in. She lead them into the hall where Trevor had found
    the blood, he noticed that someone had removed the rug. A fire blazed in
    the massive fireplace nearby and there was a large square table set in
    the middle of the room. Reginald immediately moved to stand before it.
    "Tell me girl, where is your master?" he demanded of the ghoul.
    "I am here," hissed a voice that seem to bleed from every corner of
    the room at once. Reginald winced at the echoing sibilance as he turned
    towards the fireplace. Before it stood a tall dark figure in long black
    silk robes.
    "Where the fuck did he come from?" whimpered Alex softly to Derek,
    the massive Brujah merely shook his head in shock. Reginald suddenly felt
    very alone, the dark black shadow cast by Doshaine fell straight from the
    fire to pass over the Ventrue, and leave him alone bereft of its orange
    glow. Doshaine lifted one elegant arm, the silk of the robe sliding softly
    over the alabaster white skin. The others shifted nervously as the shadow
    of the arm stretched towards them, slowly sinking them in a pool of shadow
    as well.
    "Welcome once more to my humble house," said Doshaine, he swept
    his arm forward and bowed slightly. As he rose he pulled a thick piece of
    parchment out from the inner recesses of his robe. "I have already composed
    the contract, and I believe that you shall find it....satisfactory."
    Reginald nodded slowly, then seemed to regain his composure,
    "For your sake we had better, after all it is you the prince would
    destroy if he learned of what had transpired here." Reginald stood
    straighter now, his faith in his own power at this meeting once again
    apparent to him, despite Doshaine's theatrics. "Now you will allow me to
    peruse that document, then you shall sign it and we will give you the blood
    in our possession.
    "No," said Doshaine, "first you will let me see the blood, so that
    I may be certain of its authenticity."
    "Please," Reginald scoffed, "do you think me so foolish?"
    "Tread carefully Ventrue," whispered Doshaine as he seemed to glide
    across the floor towards Reginald. "I have met you in good faith, and I
    expect the same good faith to be shown to me," He now stood directly before
    Reginald, his shadow seeing to only have become darker as he neared.
    Reginald instinctively started to raise his shotgun, but quickly decided
    against doing so when Doshaine's ivory white eyes slowly drifted down to
    watch the gun. Reginald lowered it again. "A wise decision my friend, if
    you continue to make wise decisions I may allow you to continue to live."
    Reginald motioned to Trevor, who walked up and pulled out the blood, at the
    same moment Doshaine held out the paper and handed it to Reginald.
    Suddenly there was a booming crash as the outer doors of the
    mansion slammed open. All eyes turned towards a group of twelve men, all
    heavily armed and wearing the Sabbat "uniform" of trenchcoats and combat
    boots. "Hey!" bellowed their leader "this is for shoving your nose in
    Sabbat business!" so saying he raised his twin magnums towards Doshaine.
    The elder merely smiled and said,
    "Danae," The ghoul had quietly worked her way towards a back shelf,
    and now suddenly pulled out a Winchester rifle, in a blur she pumped the
    action and sent three shots slamming into the Sabbat. He howled as the
    bullets erupted, spraying white hot phosphorous over his chest. The other
    Sabbat immediately raised their weapons and began to spray bullets over
    the entire room. Derek quickly flipped the nearby table on to its side
    and ducked behind it, he was quickly joined by Reginald and Cheryl.
    Trevor Fitzroy dove for the cover of a small desk, he was hit in the leg
    by a burst from an Uzi but was able to roll across the floor to make it
    to cover. Alex was hit by a few dozen rounds and collapsed to the floor
    in a bloody mess. Danae fired her rifle again, then spun around behind
    the cabinet she had retrieved it from. Doshaine simply seemed to
    disappear from the battle zone.
    Derek cursed as a bullet took off part of his ear, with a roar
    he stood up and pulled out his magnum with his left hand, while holding
    the shotgun in the right. Bullets thumped into him, but he ignored them
    and leveled the shotgun at a leather covered swordsman who was charging
    the table, Derek squeezed the trigger and the swordsman was almost torn
    in half by the near point blank blast. Derek shot two magnum rounds into
    a mohawk sporting thug who was blazing away with two Uzi's. With a blur
    of super-human speed a feral looking Sabbat charged in, forsaking a gun
    in favor of the gleaming talons his hands sprouted. Derek emptied his
    magnum into the freak, but the feral warrior took no notice. Just as he
    leaped onto the edge of the table and raised one of his arms Derek shoved
    his shotgun into claw boy's chest and pulled the trigger. In a stream of
    gore the clawed Sabbat was hurled back, he slammed to the ground and slid
    a few more feet, leaving a bloody smear behind him. Derek grunted in pain
    as he ducked back behind the table, his body having received numerous
    wounds from the other gunmen.
    Danae meanwhile had used her last rifle shot, she again reached
    into the cabinet and drew out a gleaming longsword. She waited for one of
    her opponents to come closer and then sprung around towards him. The Sabbat
    was carrying a bat with barbed wire wrapped around it, he chuckled in
    overconfidence at the ghoul before him. Yet even as he raised his bat she
    seemed to blur, and was suddenly standing behind him! Using her enhanced
    speed Danae spun in a quick arc, the force of her momentum and swinging
    hips easily tripled the force of the sword blow. There was a sickening
    crack as she severed his spine, the Sabbat whimpered and dropped to the
    ground. Danae however was suddenly blown off her feet by a shotgun round
    that tore through her belly.
    Derek leaned around the side of the table and fired his re-loaded
    magnum and Cheryl's automatic at Uzi boy again, this time he managed to
    hit the head, and blew a sizable chunk off. Cheryl passed him his reloaded
    shotgun, he passed her back both guns for reloading. As he leaned around
    again the shotgun was torn from his grasp as his wrist exploded in pain!
    Derek looked up to see claw boy standing over him, the hole in his chest
    fully healed. "Fuck you!" he bellowed as a battle cry. He launched himself
    forward and rammed into claw's chest knocking them both out into the
    open. Derek was stronger, but claw had the weapons. Derek latched on to
    claw's wrists and the two struggled for control. Cheryl glanced back at
    Reginald, who had been firing around the other side of the table with
    his own shotgun.
    "Derek needs help!"
    "Then go help him, I have my own problems," shouted Reginald as
    he raised his shotgun towards the rising swordsman. Cheryl growled and
    grabbed the reloaded magnum, she raised it towards Derek and his
    opponent, only to see Trevor slowly getting to his feet, and turning
    towards the fight. He raised his hands, and made a motion like grasping
    something. Suddenly the clawed Sabbat was pulled off Derek, with his
    arms being pulled wide apart. Cheryl laughed and promptly began to empty
    the magnum into his chest. Derek lay on his back in shock as claws was
    pumped full of big holes right above him, the gore rained down on Derek.
    With a growl he reached behind him and grabbed the handle of his special
    shovel.
    "Hurry!" called Trevor who was straining to continue to hold the
    now frenzing Sabbat. Derek spit in the Sabbat's face,
    "Fuck you claw boy," with a grunt he swung the shovel at claws,
    the jagged blade tore into the Sabbat's neck and thanks to Derek's
    strength severed the head from the shoulders. Derek shoved the body off
    and kicked the head back towards the other Sabbat. He then quickly
    scurried along the floor back behind the table, as the Sabbat now
    gleefully attempted to give him lead poisoning.
    Puck/Leech watched as Frankie prepared to charge into the fight
    with his new toy, a home made flame-thrower. She had decided this would
    be the best way to finish her plot. She peeked into the main hall and
    once again kept an eye on the piece of floor where the contract and
    blood clot had fallen. "Siemper Fi, do or die!!!" howled Frankie as he
    charged into the fight. Puck smiled as she watched him go, then she
    reached a hand into her robes.
    Derek grabbed his shotgun again and stood up, he raised it
    towards the Sabbat, and then paused in shock. One of those sick freaks
    seemed to be charging with a flame-thrower! Even as he tried to issue a
    warning the Sabbat seemed to trip on something, he spun and fell heavily
    backwards. The poorly made gas canister on his back split open when he
    fell on it, in horror Derek watched the small fire on the end of the
    sprayer also drop to the ground. "Get down!" he yelled as he dropped
    behind the table. With a dull whoosh and a blast of heat a massive fire
    erupted in the hall.
    "We had best get out," shouted Trevor as he used the distraction
    to dash over to his comrades. "Derek grab Alex, we can get out through
    the garden," he said pointing towards the far wall.
    "Wait!" screeched Reginald, "where's the contract?" Derek
    glanced around as he leaned down to grab Alex,
    "I think that's it," he said, motioning with a nod towards
    the center of the conflagration.
    "Nooooo," Reginald cried, Cheryl grabbed him to prevent him
    from trying to retrieve the smoldering papers.
    "Forget that shit Reggie," she cursed, "let's get the hell
    outta here!" So saying she dragged Reginald out into the garden, Derek
    followed with Alex over one shoulder and firing his shotgun blindly at
    the Sabbat as he went. Trevor dashed out last, thankful to be free of
    the burning room.
    Doshaine pushed a small button that released the Halox system
    into the hall. He then, in a black blur, swept down on Danae and pulled
    her clear of the fumes. He watched as the Sabbat grabbed their wounded
    and also fled his home. He looked down at Danae and the massive hole in
    her from a shotgun blast. His eyes narrowed, none of the Sabbat had
    been armed with shotguns. He turned towards a window as he watched the
    small band of conspirators flee into the night. He saw the shotgun
    clutched in Reginald's hand, and recalled his position during the fight.
    Doshaine growled.
    "Well at least we came out O.K.," said Alex as the group sat
    around a table the following night.
    "How can you say that," Reginald complained, "We lost a large
    amount of time and effort, as well as almost all dying."
    "Not really," said Derek, "I was worried, but that fire never
    really came very close to us."
    Reginald sputtered, "then why did we bother to flee? Think of
    how we could have argued a favor out of him for protecting him from the
    Sabbat!"
    "But he did thank us," pointed out Trevor, "his ghoul Apollo
    said he would forgive us the attempted blackmail due to our heroic
    efforts in protecting his home."
    "I'm not sure I'd trust that crazy old poet," sniffed Cheryl.
    Derek shook his head,
    "Why shouldn't we, he has nothing to gain by killing any of us,
    and he's hardly interested in politics. He probably didn't even really
    care that we tried to blackmail him, at least that's the reading I got."
    "Then your radar must be broken," hissed Reginald, "that pale
    faced loon is as dangerous as any other elder. I for one am going to
    make sure to keep an eye out for any of his plots. I suggest you do the
    same."
    Alex just laughed, "Yeah, who wants to be manipulated anyway?"
    "Master," Danae said as she quietly entered the art gallery,
    "the cleaning crews have finished, by tomorrow you won't even be able
    to tell any damage was done to the hall." Doshaine nodded quietly, not
    taking his eyes off the Dali painting he was studying. "Also it appears
    that both their evidence, and the contract were destroyed in the fire."
    Another pause, another nod. "However, I thought I should mention,
    apparently the workers discovered some marbles near where the fire
    started."
    "Marbles?" asked Doshaine in surprise.
    "Marbles." Danae replied. She held forth her hand towards
    Doshaine, cupped within it were a dozen or so brightly colored neon marbles.
    Doshaine picked one up and held it curiously before his pale eyes.
    Puck was standing on her head watching some vampires on a street
    corner discuss their secret little plans. She glanced over at the Boggin
    and the other students who had opted to listen to her as opposed to
    Arienkel. "So you see my little pack of pests, that it serves us well
    to study and understand how the other supernaturals act and behave."
    The children nodded, "because if you are aware of how they work, you
    can learn to slightly manipulate them with magicks and tricks, in order
    to get them to do what you want them to," She flipped back onto her
    feet and pulled out a few gleaming neon marbles from her pocket, "of
    course sometimes you have to take a more active hand in affairs, to
    make them turn out perfectly." The children nodded again, giggling,
    Puck smiled at them, now her song like voice seemed to turn serious,
    "but always remember, these are dangerous creatures, you must only
    get involved with them when absolutely necessary. Avoid them unless
    you have to. Only become enmeshed in their plots to save a child, or
    protect your friends, or perhaps to teach a lesson" The students took
    in this grim warning with quiet nods. Puck smiled at them.
    "Now to scape the serpents tongue, We will make amends ere
    long; Else the Puck a liar call: So, good night unto you all"
    
    Fin.
    


End file.
